


Breakdown.

by Gold_Diamond



Category: None - Fandom, freeform - Fandom
Genre: Freeform, OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27952274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gold_Diamond/pseuds/Gold_Diamond
Summary: "Stanley is simple fellow with two goals in life, take care of himself, and take care of his mother. But when push comes to shove, will he be able to keep his hands clean and his mother safe?"
Kudos: 1





	Breakdown.

"Okay, I hear you loud and clear. And you're sure that no one's gonna be there?" 

"C'maaaan! When am I ever wrong about dese things? Jus' head in dere around 5:00, do what ya gotta do, den get outta dere!"

"AM or PM?" 

"Wh- AM ya fuckin' psycho did you *want* to go in dere in da middle of the day and just start wreckin' shit like ya usually do, or do you wanna be smart and go in when no one's gonna be awake to hear ya?! We talked about askin' stupid questions if you'll remember, now leave me alone so I can get back with a few other "clients" that I so graciously put on hold so I could talk to ya!" 

A sharp and rhythmic beeping signaled the end of the conversation and the last of the patience Denis currently had with him. Discussions like these had become nearly daily now, he asked if Denis had any good info relating to locations where he was payed to work, and if he did, then Stanley went out and did his work to get payed, and whatever he got payed, he shared a fraction of with Denis for the info. It was a decent "partnership", even if Denis got small details wrong sometimes and big details wrong on even rarer occasions, but it wasn't anything Stanley wanted dwell on when he had to start getting ready. He quickly and methodically went around his house grabbing vents from floorboards and walls to retrieve small items that might be useful, while also dismantling other things around his home to grab all manner of tools that he used from time to time. With his preparations complete, he pulled out a small burner phone that contained the blueprints and layout of the house he was hitting and began to do one last runover of his path, plan, and objective. This shouldn't be anything too difficult or dangerous, but crime was crime, and with the only reason Stanley had to even commit illegal or immoral acts being money, he didn't feel too good or safe about any of it. He never did. Still, there was work to be done, and others in his field lauded him as something of a professional, so he had to have standards, one of those being punctuality. 

Stanley stepped outside his house, thankful his mom was asleep and undisturbed by his excavation of tools, before considering whether he should send her a text giving an excuse as to why he'd be out so late, but figured he'd answer any questions she may have when the time came and if the time came. If things went well, then he'd be back before anyone was the wiser and asleep in his bed. Advancing towards a rather small and beat up looking white van that Stanley used as his home-away-from-home he unlocked the vehicle with a press of a button and tossed a bulky black bag into the back, afterwards closing the doors and entering the van. He started it, and after tuning into a classical music station, he set out to the house he'd be sacking. He arrived after about two hours of driving, rolling up on the shabby looking building he cut his wheels and veered into the forest and behind a few trees and bushes. With is transport hidden, he killed the engines and stepped out, flinging the backdoors open once more to retrieve the following pieces of equipment: a lock breaking tool, a crowbar, a small but *very* sharp hatchet, a balaclava, a set of black latex rubber gloves, a flashlight, and lastly, a slingshot with a few marbles. Now the slingshot may sound odd, but it had proven to be handy multiple times to Stanley, who also underestimated its practicality at one point in time, and the marbles were easy to obtain, inconspicuous for the most part, practical in other ways, cheap, and most importantly, durable. 

With his main set of tools concealed and safely kept on his person, he looked at the big black bag, debating if he'd need it or not. One part of him said he wouldn't, and that the fact that he was considering taking it along made him a worse person than he was when he woke up that morning, but another part of him said that he works damn hard for not nearly enough, and that he deserved *something* as a reward, even if it belonged to someone else. Besides, bills didn't get paid on their own, and he already had a fence he could sell to, so what was the issue? Morality? Effort? Reason? Who cares. He earned this and that was a fact! Yet despite the overwhelming amount of reasons he came up with to try and motivate himself to burglarize the place in addition to stealing the documents providing proof of ownership, he couldn't. The people living here, no matter how much he tries to demonize them in his head, were most likely just people like him trying to get by. He was fucking them over bad with this stunt anyways, no need to salt the wound. 

Stanley donned the gloves and Balaclava before grabbing the slingshot and notching a marble within the durable rubber strap, and after taking aim at a window on the second story of the house, he let loose, sending the small sphere through the glass with a crash. Normal robbers probably wouldn't have risked this, and with good reason, they had reliable info, the element of surprise, and more, but since Stanley didn't trust *anyone* in the field of crime, he decided to take Denis's info with a grain of salt and prod at the place a bit before entering. If someone was home and Denis was wrong, then the sound of glass breaking oughta be enough to make them show themselves. He waited five minutes to see if anyone would appear, waiting just out of sight to see if he had to come up with a new plan, but ultimately, no one showed up. He set to work quickly, drifting over to the front door like a whisper, taking care not to let himself be seen by any prying eyes or oncoming cars, before testing the door, which of course and thankfully, locked. He used the lock breaking tool to force his way in as quietly as he could, but felt certain no one was here. The lack of reaction towards the noise he made and the door being locked were good signs of things like this. Stanley examined his surroundings, on both sides were completely black hallways that lead to different rooms and that were impossible to assess due to the lack of light, while in front of him looked like the living room, which, just after that, should be the stairway leading to the second floor where the safe holding the documents were. He moved as if he were wading through molasses, his footsteps virtually silent and his movements imperceptible in the dark, and once the living room had been traversed, he made it to the stair way that he knew would lead to his objective. He climbed the stairs and began making his way towards the master bedroom, or, the room that would've been such a place had this house been treated better, now it was just a bedroom though, normal and sad. Nevertheless, he arrived and slowly opened the door, cringing as he heard it creak loudly when he slipped past, but was relieved to find no one in there. He began tearing the room apart to find the safe, checking under the bed, in the bed, in the closet, but eventually found it behind a drawer. The safe was surprisingly small and colored grey, and with his plan going perfectly, he set to work opening it. That's when he heard it, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, and his signal to hurry the fuck up and leave. He didn't know if it was the home owners or a mailman or even Santa-Fucking-Claus, and frankly, Stanley didn't care, he had to hurry now or else he was done. He used the lock breaking tool once more to open the safe and snatch up the desired papers he needed, before placing everything back where it was, covering up his tracks, and exiting the bedroom.

He glanced at the stairway, deciding that it probably wasn't a great idea to leave the same way he came in since the people outside would catch him that way, before deciding to just take the fall and climb out a window, that is, if he was remembering the houses layout correctly, which due to his carefulness, he was. He found the window and brute forced it open, hopping out of it and onto the dirt with a painful thud. At least he was out of there though! And he had the proof of ownership too, that was gonna pay for his groceries for a good long while. He silently crept back over to his van, and after looking to see who was outside the house, quickly started the automobile and drove away. The car outside was one belonging to a very, very, *very* violent gangster buy the name of Holy Man, a nicknamed earned by three things: one, the tattoos depicting religious figures all across his body. Two, the extreme religious beliefs he held, and three, his preferred method of dealing with people who needed to be taken care of, "baptism", which was his version of drowning, 'cept the sicko thought he was purifying people as he murdered them, which gave him a good enough excuse to do it frequently and remorselessly. If he was here, then he had no need to stick around and get purified, that wasn't his scene.


End file.
